


Messy As The Mud On Your Truck Tires

by Dr_Roslin



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 100 Percent Fluff With A Smidge of Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Family Drama, Friends to Lovers, HEA, Holiday Season, No Pregnancy, Safe to Read if Triggered by Pregnancy, Star Wars Modern AU, Staying at My Parents House, The Road Not Taken Looks Real Good Now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:22:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28323771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Roslin/pseuds/Dr_Roslin
Summary: Spending the holidays at home for the first time in a long time, Ben Solo goes looking for his old friend, Rey, as the annual Solo-Organa party rages all around him.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Kylo Ren | Ben Solo
Comments: 42
Kudos: 127
Collections: Reylo Evermore Flash Fic





	1. The Road Not Taken Looks Real Good Now

He knew he was home simply because the snow sounded the way it was supposed to.

It was hard to explain, exactly, the way that snow was supposed to sound, just as it was hard to explain, exactly, how the cold was supposed to feel, the way it was supposed to fog up your windshield and slap you in the face as you opened the door. Snow, real snow, proper snow, crunched beneath your feet, the ice crystals the result of the multiple cycles of freezing and re-freezing in a true deep cold resulting in that proper crunch under your boots.

You never got proper snow, not in the city, at least not in Coruscant. The coastal city was cold enough, heavens knows, as its humid cold winds blew through the ubiquitous overcoats everyone wore and settled into your bones, as the salt on the roads ate through your leather boots no matter how many times you put on the proscribed protector. As cold as it got, as much as he’d shivered in the city he'd called home for so long, as much as he never gets warm in the office without three cups of Earl Grey tea, it had taken him forever to realize how it made him homesick. Took him forever to realize how he longed for that refreshing bracing chill that tightened the skin on his face and opened his eyes the way it did here, the way the cold reminded him he was home.

Took him forever to realize that he always wanted to feel the way the cold made him feel when he was home.

Like it was perfectly reasonable to want to go and build a snowman. Like ice-skating was a perfectly acceptable activity for a thirty-two-year-old man. Like the only thing missing from a perfect day walking in the woods chasing the perfect Christmas tree was a cup of bourbon-spiked hot chocolate to warm him from the inside. Like all he needed to feel warm in the meantime was someone's hand in his.

He shook his head, slightly, looking around. He’d clearly been away too long.

The famous – or maybe infamous, if his father, Han, had anything to say about it – Solo-Organa Christmas party, the party of the season in this small town, was well underway although it was barely past ten. The big, rowdy crowd was already here, filling the living room and spilling out in the hallways as the vintage jazz Christmas music blared out of the stereos installed in the walls, as it whispered out with it past the massive public Christmas tree and out the French doors and onto the open patio where his mother, Leia, had once again arranged for the heat lamps to keep everyone comfortable. The crowd on the patio didn’t seem to mind the cold anyway, though, whether that was due to the way the good cheer and alcohol was flowing, the heat from the lamps or the laughter from the corner where his Uncle Chewie was currently holding court.

‘Your mother invite the whole damn town, again, kid?’ he heard the husky voice of his Uncle Luke coming from behind him, and he looked over to where the older man had seemingly appeared from nowhere to hover over his shoulder to look at the crowd down below.

‘Looks like it,’ he confirmed civilly, doing his best to fulfill his promise to _be nice._

The irony is, once he would have been happy to seek out his mother’s twin, his company always a welcome oasis of introversion during his younger, more awkward days, but their shared history meant it was easier simply to avoid him, and he always felt the defensiveness of those days move through him, felt his hackles rise. He was doing his best, though, damn it, to fulfill his promise to the most important woman in his life and let bygones be bygones.

‘Hmph,’ the old man grumped in response. ‘Well, at least we won’t be subject to a karaoke performance this year. Lando says he won’t do it without your dad, and, since he just got over the flu, Han says his voice isn’t quite there yet.’

Ben smirked into his drink, rolling his eyes in sympathy with his uncle, and for a moment, the years and the anger and the history rolled away, and he was once again a boy of eight, running up the driveway to his house as his mother hollered down the street – _Ben, your uncle’s here._ Even though his relationships with all three of his uncles – Luke, Lando and Chewie – had all been equally, if differently, close, there had always been something that had brought a younger Luke and a baby Ben together, and Leia had always joked they’d shared the same Skywalker energy when he was younger, joking later that they shared the same Skywalker talent.

The moment of shared amusement at Han's determination to master karaoke passed, almost before Ben noticed, but its effect lingered, and he took a moment to tip the edge of his glass to his uncle in silent tribute. Maybe it _was_ time, to let it all go; the anger and resentment, the constant need to prove that he could make it on his own, master the heights of corporate communications, that he wasn’t selling out by writing copy instead of the sequel to the Great American novel Luke had produced at 29. Maybe it was time to let it go, the lingering fear that originated from those days, the fear that turning from the path that Luke had set him on in his teens didn’t mean he was betraying his family. Maybe it was time to choose not to let words Luke had said in anger – _sell-out, corporate shill, ad monkey_ – define their relationship anymore than they defined him.

 _You don’t need to get angry all the time just to prove you can’t be hurt. It’s okay just to walk away. Or to let them in if they want to try to do better,_ the soft voice whispered in the back of his brain again, reminding him that he wasn’t that angry kid anymore. That maybe he’d grown, a little. That maybe Luke had too.

‘It’s good to be back, Uncle Luke,’ he told him now, and managed not to flinch when Luke reached up to clap his heavy paw on his shoulder as he passed him muttering something about finding Leia.

‘In the kitchen supervising Grandma Padme and Me-Maw Breha,’ Ben said, hiding a smile.

‘Figures. I’d better go see how that’s going. It’s good to have you back, Ben. Try not to hide on the terrace all night.’

‘Takes one to know one,’ he responded, hoping it wasn’t that obvious, how much he was hiding. How much he waiting. 

The nice thing was, he could see all the arrivals from here, and his mother had promised him an old friend was on her way. As much as he tried to patient, it grated on him, the nerves, and the noise of the music of the mass of people currently in this house wasn't helping. It was easier, here, by himself, to settle. To wait. He’d been keeping an eye out for his father’s old truck all night, growing more and more anxious waiting for it to makes its appearance. He could have sworn he had spotted it on the way into town this afternoon, though it had been hard to tell; it had been mainly clean, barely a smudge of mud on the undercarriage He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the red and white of the paint of that truck, it had always been covered in the mud and sludge of the winters here, and he'd stared, a bit at the way it gleamed in the pale sun of the winter afternoon.

He hadn’t been near enough to see the occupant, though he’d managed to discretely quiz his mother on the girl who owned it now, and she’d confirmed Rey Johnson had promised to come tonight.

Rey Johnson.

He hadn’t managed to get her out of his head since he’d come back to visit the summer of his junior year at Chrandila University, determined to be gone in 24 hours and had stayed instead for the entirety of the break, enchanted by the girl who’d been four years behind him in high school and who had recently graduated valedictorian. It should have been awkward; hanging out with the boisterous, outgoing group that made up Rey’s friends, her foster brother Finn and the Tico girls, Rose and Paige, in addition to Poe Dameron, who, although only a year or so behind him in high school, was blessed with such an exuberant personality that the gap had always seemed so much larger.

That summer had been the greatest of his life.

They’d somehow stayed friends, him and Rey, even during the years they’d only seen each other sporadically. It shouldn't have worked, the town grump and this fierce, proud beautiful girl, but he’d missed her with every fibre every single, solitary day they’d been apart. Given that her guardian, Maz Tanaka, was an old friend of his parents (as were the Damerons, for that matter), she’d just fit in so naturally to the extended but tight-knit network of Skywalkers and Solos and Organas and Amidalas and Calrissians that formed the core of his family that no one questioned it but him, as he found a way to spend his days next to her every chance he got, even if he sometimes felt like an overgrown tank rolling alongside a graceful doe.

He frowned at his grandfather’s watch on his wrist - one of the few legacies from Anakin Skywalker he’d ever wanted to claim – and tried his best to manifest her appearance.

_Come on, Rey, where are you?_

If he stayed out here on this terrace much longer, Leia would dragoon his ass over to take over bartending duties from his father, even if Han Solo was currently having the time of his life holding court at the bar by the punch bowl. 

Just as he contemplated getting the Old Man to call her, though, he saw his father’s eyes light a little as the big front door letting in a blast of cold air and the pair of them; Maz Kanata and Rey.

 _Thank. Fuck._

Moving through the crowded room, cursing under his breath as the crowd impeded his progress, he watched as Rey leaned considerately down from her considerable height – she must be wearing the designer nude heels she loved so much, they were her tallest ones – to help Maz, tiny to begin with, off with her coat and then reach in for the hugs that started flowing the way of both of them.

‘Host’s prerogative,’ he heard his father grumble even as he struggled to fight his way there, watching from afar as Maz grabbed Han and effortlessly wrapped into her tiny frame. Watched as Han then turned to open his arms as Rey flowed in.

‘Hi, Han.’

‘Hi there, kiddo.’

As his father let her go, if only slightly, to hold her at arms’ length for inspection, Ben took his time to do some inspection of his own. The dress code for the annual Solo-Organa bash was always a bit loose, ranging from jeans to dress blazers, but Rey would have fit in perfectly with any crowd. Of course, Ben reflected, that could be just because she was so stunning. Still, the burgundy cocktail dress that reached her knees skimmed her figure perfectly, hung as it was by two tiny spaghetti straps that held up the high-cut neckline that emphasized her collarbones, her fine bone structure further emphasized by the way her hair was drawn up at the crown of her head.

_Fuck._

He was doomed. As she turned to greet his mother, who’d just appeared, and then his grandmothers, leaning all the way down to hug each petite woman in turn, he got his full look at the back of the dress, which

\- was non-existent.

The straps may have crisscrossed her bare, tanned back, but they were so tiny as to be barely discernable, and the back of the dress itself dipped low in the back.

_Fuck._

_Fuck._

_Fuck._

He was in love with the world’s most beautiful girl, and she insisted on displaying the entirety of her shapely, toned back and arms to him at his mother's crowded holiday party.

If he lost it in the middle of his mother’s annual shebang, she’d have him drawn and quartered. 

Struck dumb momentarily by the look of her, as he stood in the midst of his parent’s living room, half-hidden in the shadow of the massive Christmas tree that dominated the space, he lost track of Rey as his grandmothers swept her from the room - towards the kitchen if he knew them at all - with his mother following close behind. Ignoring the crowd that surged around him as the music changed to an old upbeat disco Christmas track – Boney M’s _Mary’s Boy Child,_ his mother’s favourite – he made as if to follow before being brought up short.

For a woman as tiny as Maz Kanaka, she had a grip like iron.

‘Ben Solo.’ 

_Oh, boy._

‘Hi, Maz.’

‘I see you made your mother happy and came home.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘See, Han,’ she said, turning to his father, ‘I told you he was a good boy.’

She turned slightly so she could wrap one arm around his father, her head barely reaching the middle of his chest, and on arm around him, reaching even less than that on him, and _squeezed_ the breath out of both of them, her strong arms keeping them both exactly where she wanted them.

‘I’ve missed my Solo boys.’

One more squeeze and then she was off, waving a hand behind her in farewell, her voice drifting back.

‘I have to go find Chewie. I’ve missed that man.’

And Ben turned to laugh with his father.

‘I see things never change.’

‘Nope, never do. Good to have you home, kid.’

‘Thanks, Dad.’

They both coughed, embarrassed to have been caught in the moment, before Han clapped him in the back with a one-handed hug, the same way they'd hugged each other since he was twelve and they’d both realized, mostly uncomfortably, that he’d soon be passing his father, in height at least.

‘Scotch?’

‘Please.’

Ben couldn’t help but glance over his father's shoulder, looking to see where Rey had gotten to, but beyond the slightest hint of her perfume that lingered, there was no trace of her, so he resigned himself to the fact that he’d lost her, at least for now. He struggled to reassure his anxious brain; it was a big party, true, but it wasn’t like she was likely to leave without seeing him, right? In the meantime, there were worse things than hanging out with his father for a few minutes, shooting the shit and laughing together as they watched as tiny Maz, who topped out at 4 foot 10, corralled Ben’s 6-foot eight-inch tall uncle into the outdoor alcove.

‘You, uh, you know I mean it, right?’

‘Sorry?’

‘It’s good to have you back. And, unh, well, we wouldn’t mind having you around, more.’

He nearly choked on his Scotch.

‘Um-‘

‘Listen, Ben, I’m not trying to pressure you. It’s just, I mean, I know you have your life, and that’s good, and I’m sure you’re loving the big city, and I don’t want to pressure you. It’s not that I’m saying, I mean, your mother misses you, I know, and I, uh, I do, too, and anyway – ‘

He clapped Ben on his shoulder as he walked away, out towards where Lando was laughing with Maz and Chewie.

‘- just come visit more often.’

Shit.

_I will not cry._

_I will NOT cry._

_Where the fuck is Rey?_

He didn’t find her, but he did find his grandmas dancing in the kitchen while his mother stood and laughed. It had been a shock when Leia had found out she’s been adopted at two days old, more of a shock when Padmdé Amidala had come looking forty years later for the twins stolen from her by her husband.

Ben didn’t remember much of the days that followed, just the tension that had filled his house as his mother had screamed at his gentle grandmother Breha, who did her best to justify her actions to her fierce daughter without the support of Grandpa Bail, who had died just the year before.

Han had done his best to both soothe his wife’s pain, deal with the fallout of her and Luke's anger, and keep Ben out of the house as much as possible, those painful weeks. It had been years before they’d all reached the point they were at now, with both women welcomed in Leia’s life. It was true, though, that their joint role as Ben’s grandmothers, at least, had been solidified the day Leia had walked in to find the two of them sitting at his feet as he cuddled in his grandfather's old club chair and read them his latest story out of his ruled school notebook. He’d been all of eight.

He doesn’t remember it, but, apparently, he’d looked up at her and said, _it’s okay, mommy, since I don’t have a grandfather, I got two grandmas instead._

He doesn’t remember his mother crying, but he did remember Grandmother Padmé being around a lot from that point forward.

The years had helped take the edge of his mother’s pain, or at least that's what she'd told him, though he knew it was still there, knew she struggled to forgive the adults in her life, the parents who’d lost her and the parents who’d lied to her. Still, he hoped it was easier to forget, with his two grandmothers took time off dancing in the middle of the kitchen floor only to argue with the caterers while his mother sighed and swayed slightly on her feet to the music that drifted in from the living room, Bing Crosby deep baritone seeping into the busy room.

Catching his eye, she suddenly pulled him in to sway with her, her sure grip as strong as ever as she led him through the Christmas waltz.

‘…a white Christmas - Just like the ones I used to know…’

Laughing down at his mother, who reached just shy of his shoulder, even with the three-inch heels she wore and yet still managed to take the lead, he did his best to follow her quick steps.

She was difficult to resist when she was this happy and this present, even if he felt a little ridiculous, as he danced in his family’s kitchen, his mother directing him by the nose, flour dusting his shoes, while his grandmothers argued over lumps in the cocktail sauce and the catering staff rolled their eyes at his crazy family. Another one for the gossip mill that ran rampant in this town about the eccentric family that lived up on the hill.

Knowing there was no stopping her, he swept his mother up in his arms until her feet could no longer touch the ground and swayed her like a rag doll as she sang his ear, her husky voice deeper even than Crosby's, making the hammy old song new again.

‘…May your days be merry and bright. And may all your Christmases be white.’

‘Merry Christmas, mom.’

‘Merry Christmas, Ben.’ 

She squeezed him again as he put her down, and always, it made things just that much a little bit better, as he bent down to kiss her cheek.

‘Oh, and Ben?’

‘Ma’am.’

‘We’ll expect to see you more than once a year, from now on.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Good.’

She reached up to pinch his cheek before shoving him out the kitchen door.

‘I think Rey was looking for you. She was headed out to the terrace to find you. Best go find out what she needs. These two,’ she said, gesturing to her mothers who hadn’t stopped arguing, apparently oblivious to all the movement which flowed around them, ‘are going to be at it for a while, but I can wrangle them if I need to. So just be on your way.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Go find that girl.’

He retreated as fast as he could, making sure to be well out of the kitchen before she could change her mind.

If he didn’t know better, he could the gods were conspiring against him. Wherever he went, he found only the lingering trace of Rey, never the woman herself. He was constantly missing her by minutes, the only trace of her the smiles on people’s faces and the change in the air from the perfume she only used on special occasions. (It was hard to find, outside of Coruscant, after all, so she used it sparingly.)

He felt he was chasing her all over the damn mountain they were perched on. 

He’d given up, finally, and had retreated to the same alcove where he’d started the night and waited for her to come to him.

Just as he knew she would.

Or at least, he hoped.

God, he misses her. He stands there, for a while, as the party ebbs and flows around him, and waits impatiently for her to find him. He feels like he’s just killing time waiting for the main event to begin, for her to arrive, and even though he’s sure he has a number of conversations with various people in the meantime, honestly, he doesn’t remember the details of any of them.

He thinks he laughed with Lando, he thinks he hugged Chewie, he thinks he did a shot with his father. He thinks he may have spent a few minutes with his mother laughing at the antics of, Artie, the family dog while he stood with his arms around her tiny shoulders and his chin resting on his head. He thinks he may have noticed how the flour in her hair looked like the pixie dust he’d once sprinkled on her. (He’d been seven and had been convinced that enough pixie dust and happy thoughts would allow everyone he knew to find a way to fly.)

"Hey, stranger."

He turns and sees her, and it’s like the massive relief is a weight off his chest that he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying, and he can breathe again as his lungs expand fully for the first time all night and he benefits from the full experience of once again inhaling all oxygen he needs. He can’t remember what day it is; he can’t remember where he is or why he should care, and all he can think is:

_Thank fuck._

"Hey."

He's been chasing her all night and here she stands, as long and lean and lithe as the day they'd met, her small smile mocking him from further away than he'd like, her warmth still not quite in his reach. It’s always the same, for him, the reaction, as she’s looking up at him and he can’t help the small smile he greets her with, the relief he feels that he’s unable to express in words and the joy that fills him simply by breathing the same air.

The regrets he's pushed down into his guts since he'd gotten back fights with the relief that fills him at her arrival, and he longs for it, almost, for this regret, even as he’s well aware that every night he’s spent alone, this past decade, has been the result of his choices. That the reason his bed has been so cold at night is because he hasn’t been strong enough to ask her to warm it every evening. 

"Here to rescue me?"

"Always."

Opening his arms, he’s surprised, still, as she walks into them, seeming to breathe him in just as he does her, and then her head tilts up and his lips tilt down and they’re meeting, the spark that flares the moment they’re in the same room coursing through his veins as always. She fits so neatly in his arms, just as she’d always done, just at it had been since that first summer, when his hugs had been so tentative and her response so sure.

It’s perfect, just as it always is, and he feels it again, that sense of regret that he’d always felt on his visits home, that combination of potential and lost opportunity, the sense of missing what he’d never had, the contemplation of the road not taken.

He’d never asked her to wait and she’d never asked him to stay and they’d never talked about it, how much it hurt to live their lives separately, how much being with her changed the way he looked at the entire world, let alone the choices that had let to the path he’d taken, the path that had led him so far away from here, so far away from her. How he felt he was faking it, every tiny smile, every polite bow to the conventions of his life during every moment that he was away from her.

That they both knew the only person who could ever tell he was faking was the person he was leaving behind.

That the only person he wanted to care was the only one who would always call him on his bullshit.

And now she’s here, and she’s in his arms again, just the way he’d always dreamed, and the fact that he’s at his parents massive holiday bash and that they’re surrounded by more people than he’d ever feel comfortable with and that his mother would frankly kill him if she caught him making out with Rey Johnson in the alcove of her terrace is obliterated from his mind as Rey kisses him and they make their way into the shadows.

The dress she’s wearing is barely an impediment, as she wraps herself around him, as her leg lifts to find its natural position around his waist and her arms wind around his neck even as her neck falls back to make room for his waiting lips. He feels it all, the heat of her body scorching through his clothes, the strength of limbs around him, as he hitches her other leg around his waist and presses her more firmly into the wall, neither of them caring in particular about the chill from the cold stone of the building in the December night as they press against it, his much larger frame shielding her from any outside scrutiny.

He finally stops kissing her long enough to bury his face in her skin and sigh, finally at peace. Finally, at ease. Takes a moment to sigh in relief that he’s finally here, that they’ve finally made it this far. There were so many ways this could have gone, so many ways it could have gone wrong, so many choices that, if he’d made only slightly different ones, could have ended up with him alone. On the outside, with his hand pressing on the cold of the glass, looking in. Hell, with him never having had the courage to step up that night by the bonfire by the ocean that night, all those years ago, and ask her to dance.

‘Your mother is going to kill us, she catches us making out on the terrace at her holiday party,’ Rey sighs, almost regretful, into his skin.

‘I'll make sure she doesn’t catch us, then.’

He feels the imprint of the ring she’s wearing, on the golden chain around her neck, as it presses in, leaving an imprint on his skin through her dress where it meets his skin at the open collar of his shirt.

They must be bonded somehow, because, as always, she knows what he’s thinking.

‘Doubt it's going to matter, though. She’s going to kill us as soon as she finds out about Coruscant, anyway.’

‘Yup.’

‘Benjamin.’

‘Get used to it, sweetheart. Embrace the drama.’

‘I’m serious, Ben.’

He’s paying attention, really he is, but her neck is right there, and he’s weak before temptation, dragging his lips against the length of her tendon, breathing her in, sucking at her pulse point. His hand is drifting up the length of her body from her waist through her gentle breast he can feel through her dress, and he’s getting more distracted by the minute, contemplating how easy it would be for his hand to drift in under the fabric.

‘I know.’

She’s not wearing a bra, and the palms of his hands soon find the stiffened peak of her nipple and they both sigh, even as she arches back, opening up her neck to his lips again. She smells so good, and he buries his nose in where she’d dabbed her perfume. It will always be the same for him, this sense of coming home, when he smells this perfume, and if he could think with all the blood rushing south to his cock, he’d make a note to buy her a lifetime supply.

‘She’s not going to be happy that we got married without inviting her.’

It wasn’t the greatest decision of his life, he will admit that, but Rey had looked up at him from the rumbled sheets of his bed one morning last month that he hadn’t been able to resist blurting out the question that had been hanging off his lips for the past year. His perfect girl, his perfect wedding – just them at City Hall with their witnesses, a young couple from rival families of Coruscant, barely out of their teenaged years, who’d apparently said fuck it and had just run off to get married - a perfect moment in time, their wedding, that had all come together in ways in which he’d never dared dream.

Since that moment she’d shown up at the door of his Coruscant apartment one Thursday night eighteen months ago, still shivering from the long cold drive, they’d managed, somehow, to sneak in time together, weekends with her snuggled into his bed, the occasional one with him sneaking into her little cottage at the edge of his hometown, the secret rendezvous they’d squeezed in neighbouring towns, the ski trip last spring – when they hadn’t skied at all, just made love by the fireplace in their cabin - it all came together, here, now, in snow standing outside his parent’s house in his home town.

The heartache of watching her drive off all those times, the regret every time he passed the outskirts of town, missing her, hoping no one recognized him sitting behind the wheel, that was over. It was time, for them to reap the rewards of how they’d worked so hard to build a life they could live, together.

Provided his mother didn’t kill him for marrying the love of his life at noon on a Tuesday in the bare room of Coruscant City Hall, and worse, for failing to invite her.

Ben Solo was plenty of things, and he had been accused of being a little dim, when it came to both his mother and with Rey, but he wasn’t stupid enough to tell his mother of his wedding with a house full of her invited guests, but they’d be plenty of time later. His mom liked to decompress with a cup of Earl Grey after one of these parties, with the debris of wrapping paper and catering trays and wine glasses sitting by the sink rinsed and waiting to be placed in the dishwasher. He’d always known, even as a young child, that it was best to approach her, in those moments of calm, as the dark descended over the yard and the house settled back into what it did best, throwing a warm blanket of peace and security around its occupants.

He’d have to live one more night without Rey in his bed, however, as he wasn’t quite mad enough to spring Rey, fresh from his bed in his mother’s guest bedroom, on the Solo-Organa clan at breakfast, let alone to announce her as his wife.

Men had died for less. 

So, now, he’d sleep one more lonely night alone, though he swore, privately, that it would be his last. In the meantime, he smiled down in his wife’s lovely eyes and decided not to worry about his mother’s wrath. She loved him almost as much as she loved Rey and, as his father always said, her bark was worse than her bite.

He hoped, though, for tonight, he had little reason to be pressed. He had Rey in his arms, her dress was little more than wrapping paper at this point, and he was pretty sure that they could successfully sneak into his father’s study without anyone noticing. Plus, it had a door that locked, which at the moment, was the only thing with which he was concerned.

The night was dark and soft around them, the music of the party a pulsing echo in the distance and they had, finally, found each other. It may have taken the better part of a decade, and he has no idea where they go from here, but he doesn’t really care. He has Rey in his arms, his ring on the chain around her neck, waiting to circle her finger, and every hope he’s ever had has finally come true. He has finally ended up exactly where he needs to be.

Besides.

‘Maybe she’ll forgive us, when we tell her I’m coming home. For good.’

He was home.


	2. It always leads to you in my hometown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [LadyBrettAshley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrettAshley/profile) as a thank you for all the encouragement and in celebration of her rocking her LSATs.

The sun shone sunny and bright in that mountain town the morning of the Solo-Johnson wedding.

Ben had been pleasantly surprised, even as his grandmothers kept telling him, as they forced him down to their level to pinch his cheeks and kiss him all over, that it was a good omen.

It seemed appropriate, even if he really didn’t give a shit about omens and he’d already been blessed all the good luck one man could need.

Rey had agreed to marry him not once, but twice.

And while the first time had been during a quiet Tuesday afternoon at Coruscant City Hall with none but two witnesses – two young lovers they’d met in line to register for their license, also there to escape family pressures surrounding their marriage – Rey had actually agreed to marry him this time while knowing the circus that would be a formal wedding arranged by their mothers and his grandmothers.

Luckily the grand ballroom at the Coruscant Opera House had been booked solid for months. Even Padme Amidala hadn’t been able to bully her way into getting them a date there, no matter how many aggressive negotiation tactics she’d tried.

‘Benedict Chewbacca Solo-Organa.’

Turning to face Leia as she marched up to him, he winced reflexively. He never used his full birth name; ‘Solo’ was much less recognized than ‘Organa’ in the social and professional circles in which they travelled, and, well - the fact was it was quite the mouthful. 

But, crap, you always knew you were in trouble when your mother called you by your full name.

‘You really looked down at a tiny baby in your arms and thought; I should name him ‘Benedict Chewbacca Solo-Organa’?’ he groused, bending down as his mother tugged him into place so she could arrange his necktie, already folded into a perfect Windsor knot by Grandma Breha, to her specifications.

_Wait-_

‘And _dad_ agreed to it?’

‘Your father was so deliriously happy in that moment, he wouldn’t have blinked if I’d decided to call you Grogu,’ she told him absently as she frowned up at the material of the necktie in her hands, apparently unhappy it wasn’t jumping to attention at her command.

‘Good thing you decided to go with Ben, then.’

‘Ask your grandmothers about old Ben Kenobi later; he cut quite the dashing figure back in the day apparently. All I knew was that he came when I was in labour and I needed him, so it seemed appropriate to name you after him. Anyway- ’ she told him, patting the necktie in place and then finally looking up at him.

He decided not to mention that she’d had to blink back tears as she'd looked up at him, deciding in that moment to choose discretion over valour. Instead, he smiled down at her, marvelling again as such a tiny woman wound all the men in her life around her little finger. Barely 5 feet tall in her stocking feet and delicate with it, she’d reluctantly acquiesced to the demands of the wedding venue Rey had chosen by wearing chunky sandals with two-inch heels instead of her preferred four-inch stilettos. Either way, she still only made it halfway up his chest. 

‘I love you, mom.’

This time the tears spilled out a little before she caught them on the tips of her fingers; making sure they didn’t smear her makeup.

‘I love you too, son,’ she said in that whiskey-soaked voice of hers before giving a hard squeeze. ‘Now. Let’s get this show on the road before Rey starts to think we aren’t coming.’

He snorted even as he smiled.

‘Not possible.’

‘Well. At least now she knows what she’s getting into. After that crap you got the poor girl at the holiday party.’

Because he _was_ his mother’s son, Ben knows better than to smirk. He’d had the best sex of his life at that party - not to mention later that night - and not only because Rey loved the taste of molten chocolate eaten directly off his fingers. It’s too bad her dress from that night was a write-off, though.

‘Stop harassing the poor boy,’ Han cut in as he walked into the living room, likely sent to collect them by Ben’s grandmothers. ‘He’s got enough to worry about right now.’

His father was grinning like a Cheshire cat, though, sending his wife a wink as he joined his small family group, bending down all the way to her level for her to kiss his cheek before he turned to slap Ben on the back, the impact solid enough that Ben would have stumbled slightly had he not been expecting it. Some things never changed.

‘Hey kiddo. Big day.’

‘Big day.’

He should nervous, he really should, but knowing Rey had already married him once took some of the edge off, as did the fact that she kept texting him emojis expressing exactly how she felt about her mother fussing as they got ready in her cottage on the far side of town. If anything, he was impatient; Maz took wedding traditions seriously, so he hadn’t seen his wife in the last twenty-four hours, despite the fact they’d been married for several months by this point.

_‘Then you won’t mind keeping your paws off her for one night, Ben Solo,’ Maz had growled at him after he’d mentioned that fact – in jest, naturally._

She hadn’t exactly forgiven him, had Maz, for stealing her daughter away to elope to City Hall and then not telling everyone for months, and she certainly hadn’t forgotten him for ‘embarrassing’ Rey as he’d tried - and failed - to sneak her out of his mother's house at dawn the night they’d all come to Organa-Solo holiday bash. Exercising some degree of torture on him in the weeks leading up to this wedding seemed to be her way of re-establishing just who held the reigns in this new relationship they were developing. One thing was certain; it wasn't going to him. 

_‘Bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, young man, and I don’t care how many times you’ve married her before.’_

Luckily Han had been standing near enough to elbow him in the ribs as Maz had poked at him, so he’d remembered to mind his manners.

_‘Yes, ma’am.’_

The text that follows from Han now as he leaves to oversee the cars in preparation to head to the ceremony almost makes Ben choke on the coffee that his mother has been feeding him all morning in tiny white china cups. (He must be on the twelfth cup by now, but he swears that’s only because the cups are so damn small.) He can't help chugging the coffee, cup after cup, until Grandma Breha cuts him off, but not because he’s nervous, no, despite the fact that he’s texted Rey to confirm that she’ll be there so many times that Maz apparently confiscated her phone and sent back her own response, telling him to _‘let the girl breathe’._

No, he just needs the coffee so he's something to do with his hands.

His father’s text now is almost as short as Maz's was, as his father takes care to remind him that his mother will be watching them during the wedding reception – _their_ wedding reception - and that they better not ‘disappear’ for more than twenty minutes or a search party will be sent after them.

He sends back a short response – _‘you’re one to talk, remember the holiday party of 1997? We couldn’t find you all night and mom had to change her dress after it got ‘ripped’. Grandma’s still pissed’_ – while snort-laughing, planning the entire time all the things he and Rey could do in a quiet corner in twenty minutes, formal wear be damned. Though, after the holiday party debacle, or rather the debacle from the morning following the holiday party, Rey _had_ insisted they be ‘slightly’ more careful. (She would likely have been more firm when they'd discussed it if he hadn’t had his hand up her skirt and his lips on the curve of her neck at the time, and he had to admit he’d proud of his quick thinking at that moment.)

It had been a close call, at the party itself. It hadn't been his fault, entirely – when Rey had expressed an interest in molten chocolate cake and having him feed it to her, he’d been only too happy to comply. Managing to procure said cake and escape towards the quiet patio he’d left her on had proven almost too easy, and sure enough, his mom had caught him with steps to go, even as he could see Rey hiding in the shadows, struggling to get the bodice of her dress tied back up. He’d managed to convince Leia that the cake was for one of the neighbours - she knew how much he hated sweets. Through, looking back, he’s not sure if he'd managed to convince her or she'd been just that determined not to pry.

Luckily, his mother hadn’t run into Rey until later that evening and it had been dark enough that she’d only seen the smudges of chocolate on her neck she hadn't been able to hide under her hair. Luckily it had been dark enough that Leia hadn't noticed the chocolate smudges on the rest of Rey, not noticing those on her dress, not to mention the ones on her cheek and collarbones or, obviously, those smudges hidden by her bodice. Ben had found it everywhere when he’d undressed her in his bed that night after the house had finally settled. He’d never complain about the taste of chocolate again.

It turned out he _did_ enjoy chocolate, or at least he did when he was licking it off Rey’s nipples as he knelt at her feet.

Still, they’d probably have gotten away with their less than discreet exploits that night if his family hadn’t changed the codes to the alarm system, leaving Ben with long outdated ones. He'd never heard a piercing alarm quite that loud, no matter how Rey had tried to block out the noise with her hands as he'd struggled with shutting it off. It hadn’t been the smoothest of introduction of Rey into the Skywalker-Solo-Organa clan.

 _‘What do you expect, Ben? It’s been ten years; of course we've changed the codes,’_ his mother had snarled at him, during the impromptu family meeting at 6 that morning that had resulted from his trying to sneak Rey out the house. Of course, they’d all gone to bed at 3, so they’d all been barely asleep when the alarm’s shocking alert had gone off. Rey, his university hoodie over her dress, the arms rolled all the way up, had insisted that she could bypass it, shut it off, but they’d been interrupted before she’d had a chance. 

_‘We change the code every 6 months, you nerfhearder!’_

Behind his tiny, furious mother, he had seen his father laughing hysterically, apparently happy to observe his wife and her idiot son resolve their issues themselves. Ben had no doubt his father was probably also amused since it was something he would have likely done back in the day, which was something Ben had not wanted to focus on. He couldn't decide which had been worse; whether it had involved his mother when Han had been courting her or whether it had involved someone else in those crazy years before his father had met her.

Sure enough, he had felt the text notifications hit the phone where it buzzed in his pocket in record time that morning.

_pro tip kid, blame the damn cat_

Later he found his father’s running text commentary on the morning's events -

_can’t believe Rey’s sticking with you through this_

_good job, kiddo, you must have impressed her_

_nice girl, by the way_

_pretty, too_

_your mother will slow down soon_

_she has to breathe eventually_

Leia, meanwhile, had just launched into a lecture regarding proper adult behaviour for these situations - _Ben, just man up and have your girlfriend stay for breakfast instead of trying to sneak her out, setting off all the alarms and waking us all up at fucking daw_ n – when Han had sent the snarkiest of the bunch of the texts -

_I blame you for this_

_If you’d texted me, I would have sent you the damn code_

-which probably would have made him howl – or at the very least crack a smile - except he was in the midst of losing his temper when his father had sent it. Rey caught on to his irritation too late, though it was unlikely even she would have been able to stop him as he blurted the secret he’d been trying – only somewhat resolutely, it had to be said - to hide as it exploded in his heart and out through his bigmouth.

‘Rey's. Not. My. Girlfriend. _That’s_ _my_ fucking _wife._ ’

There had been a lot of yelling after that, most of it happy, as his mother and both of his grandmothers had started talking over one another, demanding explanations from him and Rey, although his father had rolled his eyes at most while the text commentary had continued.

_that’s my boy_

_locking her down_

_well done_

_not going to get out of a wedding though_

_you know your mother_

_and I can’t head her off on this one_

Sure enough, his mother, in the middle of kissing him and Rey, one at a time, over and over and over again, tugging them both to her height with her formidable strength, had suddenly she’d gotten the look – the one Ben had learned to recognize at an early age, that one which signaled the harbinger of an idea with which Leia Organa was truly enamoured.

She’d passed her son and daughter-in-law to her mothers before going to work on her brainchild.

A wedding. A spring wedding. With everyone involved, the whole town, out to celebrate.

Rey had ‘escaped’ to confess to Maz that she’d eloped without telling her, though it had been clear to Ben from his wife’s expression – gods he loved saying that – that he wasn’t off the hook on that matter, either. He’d promised to come over later to take his fair share of the blame, though he was hopeful he’d manage to drag Rey off to someplace quiet to 'confab' while he was there. Might as well reap the benefits of married life if they were going to pay for it anyway, and Rey's truck had a truly generous bench seat.

In the meantime, his mother had started the coffee and breakfast, apparently determined to get straight to work on wedding planning, even as his father’s texts continued to roll through as everyone else decided to head back to bed.

(Some days Ben cursed the day his father had gotten a Blackberry from an IPO he’d been involved with; it had been non-stop electronic communications from there on. His mother might occasionally engage in more old-fashioned modes of communications, but his father had adopted texting in the 90s and had never looked back.)

_You better not have stained your mother's tablecloth out back_

_Neither one of us will hear the end of that one_

_Can't believe you got caught_

_Wait – was that you two in the library earlier?_

_Damn it, Ben, you know how your mother feels about the chaise in that room_

Lucky for everyone involved, Ben had remembered about the chaise. Also lucky for him, the antique library desk was sturdier than it looked. He had given a good shove as a test before he and Rey had thoroughly tested its sturdiness, and it had proved as resilient as he'd thought. To be fair, though, as much as he'd enjoyed having Rey up against the wall of the sturdy house outside on the terrace and up against his favourite antique desk, nothing had compared to the way it had felt to have her at his mercy in his big bed later that night and in through the morning, as he'd covered her mouth with his to catch the screams as he'd worshiped her body with his tongue and had made her come every which way possible. 

Yup. Truly the best sex of his life. After this extravaganza was over and he could truly, officially, claim Rey as he wife, again, he'd every intention of repeating the process. Maybe with ice cream. Rey did love it, after all, and he was looking forward to running the experiment again in a setting where he could make her scream. 

Finally, though, after all the family drama and the meetings and the event planning, they’d somehow managed to hold his mother and grandmothers in check when it came to planning their wedding, benefitting greatly in the process from Maz’s help. The three of them - with his father 'pitching in' from time to time, apparently - had somehow convinced his mother and grandmothers to agree to a ‘simple’ ceremony in the spring, to be held in Rey’s favourite mountain meadow with a wedding reception to be held here, at the Solo-Organa home, later. (Rey had given in on that point after Ben had quietly whispered in her ear all the advantages of not having to shoo dozens of people out of her cottage at the end of the night, leaving them free to celebrate their wedding night the way it was meant to be done.)

Maz might still grumble about ‘ _ungrateful little boys_ ’ who’d gotten ‘ _too big for their britches_ ’ under her breath when she saw him, but she’d helped, when they’d needed it.

Had held firm about not seeing each other the night before the wedding, though.

Resuming his pacing, he looked at his watch. Okay, forty-five minutes to Go Time.

He could do this.

Mentally, he started counting down the time remaining. The drive would take 15 minutes, so really that doesn’t count; he’d have something to occupy his nerves during that time. So, really, it’s only thirty minutes.

Thirty minutes until he gets to see Rey.

Thirty minutes until they’re – once again – officially man and wife.

 _The marriage licence and a ceremony at City Hall is for the state_ , his mother had reminded him when he’d objected, early in the process, to way she was determined they go ahead with a (relatively scaled down by her standards) wedding. _The wedding is for your family; your community. It’s the promise you’re making to each other and to them and their promise in return to help you fulfill your promises to each other._

He’d had no real comeback to that one and the kicker was – she was right.

Plus, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t appeal to him, to stand up with Rey in front of everyone that mattered in their lives and pledge to love each other to the end of time.

 _Pacing_. _Pacing helped_ , he reminded himself, looking at the watch on his wrist.

Thirty-seven minutes to Go Time. So, really – he tried to remember math; _what is math?_ – twenty-two minutes, once you factored in the commute.

He was practicing his vows in his head when his mother walked in, 8 minutes later, to adjust his bow-tie for the umpteenth time and collect him for the pre-ceremony family photos.

At least –

Family photos that would need to be updated in just over an hour.

Arms around his family, just over 10 minutes later, as the photographer took the last of the set of the more casual photos Grandma Breha had insisted on, he smiled at his small family grouping, about to be enhanced by the addition of at least one more member.

(Two if you counted Maz. Which they do.)

Then his father was ushering them out the door – muttering about traffic this time of day, as if they didn’t live in a tiny village where all the occupants would already be gathering at the ceremony – precisely on the dot of the hour designated by his mother.

15 minutes to go.

One short drive and he’d see her face.

As much as his family bickers, that’s how much they come together to pull things off.

Just as he’d thought, the roads up the mountain towards Rey’s meadow are empty, everyone, he’s sure, already waiting for them. He’s certain they’re the last to arrive; Rey had sent him a text with a quick video of a view of the meadow from the tent she’s apparently getting ready in. It had been the last thing he’d seen before his father had confiscated his phone – _sorry kid, your mom insists_ – and it had settled his heart, a little.

There hadn’t been even a tiny glimpse of Rey in the video – he’d looked – not the tip of her shoe or the edge of her hand or even a small piece of the fabric of her gown, just the meadow and the chairs and the guests and the small rise where the officiant would declare them man and wife. Again.

There had been, though, her voice, on the video, just a quick snippet, just one short sentence, just three words, really.

_‘I am here.’_

He’d never been so thankful for his wife’s ingenuity – apparently hearing someone’s voice recording didn’t break the rule about pre-wedding contact. Or maybe she was just sneaky.

He loves that about her.

Had he been in control of the car, Ben Solo would have broken the speed of sound in that moment, trying to get to that meadow.

Perhaps luckily (?), his father was driving, with him in the passenger seat. They made it there in less than 12 minutes, rather than the standard 15, and it still wasn’t quick enough. (Ben had noticed that his mother, seated in the back, had closed her eyes as the road zipped by, probably praying, from the way her lips moved, but hadn’t said a word, trusting apparently in her husband’s driving and her son’s desperation.)

‘Told you the Falcon could do the Kessel Run in 12,’ he hears Han brag to his mother, but he’s mostly just happy to be there – _fucking_ _finally_ – that he didn’t pay much attention. He couldn’t help but see as his mother pats his father gently on the arm fondly though, as she responds.

‘Okay there, flyboy.’

If he weren’t so distracted, he’d join in the fun, but it’s Go Time in 8 minutes, and he’s so happy they’re finally here, he can finally breathe. Because he’s an adult – godsdamnit – he manages to resist the urge to walk too close to the tent where he knows Rey is, instead waiting impatiently, shifting from one foot to another as his father prepares to escort his grandmothers to their seats while his mother takes his place at his side.

Looking down at her again as she fusses at his bow tie, again, he smiles.

‘Love you, mom.’

‘Love you more, Ben,’ she says as she reaches up to pat at the tie gently, the undercurrent of her words standing out –

_You’re such a good boy and I’m so glad you’re home._

Go Time.

Before he knows, he’s settled his mother in her seat after bending all the way down so she can kiss him gently on the cheek, before reaching up to carefully rubbing out the non-existent lipstick smear off after she does. He kisses his grandmothers next, gently and softly, greets Luke with a (mostly) friendly hug and is lifted off his feet by Chewie’s bear-like embrace while everyone laughs fondly. Finally, his father gives him a quick hug and joins him in front of the gathered community as they wait for Rey.

The sun shines in the small mountain valley this spring day, and the flowers of early spring have filled it with so much colour that it’s everywhere. The music from the harpist Leia had found swells with the traditional bridal processional song, and though Ben had found ‘Here Comes the Bride’ trite with every hearing before this, he can barely hold back tears.

Then Rey walks into view and he gives up, letting them fall, even as Han again ‘pats’ him on the back. It's probably a good idea, the way Han pats him with a sturdy enough pressure to get him breathing again, since he'd forgotten how, watching Rey walk down the aisle.

Objectively, he knows his wife is beautiful.

Rey Johnson has sharp, defined, elvin-like features, dark brown hair and eyes that glimmered in the sun and whose hazel tint he can never define as it shifts from green to blue to brown, depending on the light and the day and her mood. Small in frame and lovely with it, at five-seven she’s the perfect height for him, and every curve of her is etched in his mind.

He’s made love to her so many times at this point he’s happily lost count; they've fucked in hotel rooms, his bed, hers, his parents’ guest bedroom, the library, the shadowy alcove out back (a personal favourite), both their vehicles, the bathroom at Coruscant City Hall and up against a tree in the Yavin National Forest. He’s made love to her more than once in this very meadow where people have gathered to watch her agree to be his wife.

Ben Solo forgets all of that, in that moment, forgets that breathing is necessary, forgets every word and every moment and every need that had occupied him before this exact instant, that’s how impossibly lovely his wife is as she walks down the aisle towards him on her foster mother’s arm.

She might as well be Persephone, the goddess of spring, as she walks towards him with a circlet of daisies in her hair and a bouquet of them in her hand, barefoot in a butter-yellow dress that should be too insubstantial for a day this early in spring, flowing around her bare feet and revealing the slightest hint of long, toned thigh as it shifts and moves. Her dark is down, curling around her face and the edges of her shoulders and it could be the make-up or it could be her, but her face glows with a soft, dewy opalescence.

She is Beauty, she is Light, and she is here to save him from a live of ordinary days and lonely nights.

As he moves forward to take her hand as Maz presses it into his, he remembers to press his lips lightly against Maz’s cheek in gratitude for helping get them here, though he never takes his eyes off Rey.

‘Take care of each other,’ Maz tells them as she grasps both their hands in her strong grip, and then Rey is kissing her cheek before turning to face him, finally putting both her hands in his, and he’s finally home.

‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in this company and before these witnesses-’ Mayor Holdo begins, as he looks down at Rey’s smile.

She winks at him and he relaxes for the first time since he’d dropped her off at home late last night.

And it doesn’t matter that it had taken longer than he’d wanted. It doesn’t matter what words Holdo says as she binds them, as long as she binds them properly. It doesn’t matter that everyone in the crowd, that the entire village is watching him, he lets their gazes bask him in warmth, lets Rey’s hand in his centre him. It doesn’t matter, that decade he’d spent alone, chasing a purpose that could never fulfil him, in a place he'd never loved. All that matters that he’s found a way to find his way home, holding Rey’s hands in front of the galaxy and all these people, in front of his family, as they care for them both, as they provide the support it takes for him to claim what he needs.

Rey.

With her bright smile and warm hands and loving heart, as she stands in front of him in the most beautiful dress he could ever have imagined, in the bright sunshine of a meadow in his hometown, as she’s here to claim him in front of all his family and hers, as she’s here to rescue him and let him cover her bare shoulders with the jacket of his tuxedo later while he stands with one arm around her. That she’ll be there to sit in his lap or next to him or to take his arm when they walk down the street. That she lets him warm her, with his clothes and his heart and his hands, and love her and keep her safe in his arms and his heart.

That she keeps him safe and warm and protected while she makes him laugh and tells him he’s an idiot.

That she’s here to warm his heart and his bed.

That she’s here to rescue him; keep his heart as safe as he keeps hers.

He’d made it.

He’s home.

At last.

**Author's Note:**

> It's the kind of cold  
> Fogs up windshield glass  
> But I felt it when I passed you  
> There's an ache in you  
> Put there by the ache in me
> 
> 'Tis the damn season  
> Write this down  
> I'm staying at my parents' house  
> And the road not taken looks real good now  
> Time flies  
> Messy as the mud on your truck tires  
> Now I'm missing your smile, hear me out  
> We could just ride around  
> And the road not taken looks real good now  
> And it always leads to you and my hometown
> 
> I'm at @randombks on Twitter if you want to stop by.


End file.
